by Rob Maylor
Defence engaged a civilian charter plane and we flew direct to Kuwait, where we put some gear together at an Allied base that had been maintained there since the first Gulf War. We then boarded an Australian Hercules and flew straight to Iraq. We landed at Baghdad international airport around midday and transferred to armoured vehicles for the drive to where the Australian Security Detachment (SECDET) were staying.
They were based in an American facility–formerly the old Ba’ath Party HQ–just on the verge of the Green Zone. SECDET were a detachment of battalion soldiers who were responsible for the Australian Embassy’s security. My patrol was attached to the Delta boys from the US. The other patrol stayed in our hasty accommodation where SECDET were and were attached to taskforce (TF) Black, the British Special Boat Service–the SF unit of the Royal Marines–and commuted to and from the SBS quarters–all in the Green Zone but a stone’s throw from each other.
We had ideas of integrating us into the Allied teams and working with their guys, but we wanted to get the operation out of the way first. The CO told us we’d be there for three months regardless. ‘As soon as the operation finishes you’ll start working with the other SF groups,’ he said. This would have been awesome, as they were doing some fantastic work. But as it turned out we found ourselves caught up in what we called the ‘intelligence game’.
The Australians, British and Americans were spreading a lot of cash around trying to buy intelligence about Douglas Wood’s whereabouts. Not surprisingly, the Iraqis were coming forward with information that was no good, taking the cash and doing a runner. Then there were two Iraqi doctors, a married couple, who were selling a lot of information to anyone who was prepared to pay for it, and they were pulling in a lot of cash. But they were walking a very fine line; it’s almost like being a double agent–which they probably were–if you were found out supplying information, you would lose your head. They gave information about Douglas Wood but it was very vague because they knew they could come back and get more money. In this case it didn’t do anyone much good and these two finished up dead.
But every now and again you would get what the Americans call a ‘walk-in’. These are locals who would approach American soldiers with information. Nine times out of 10 the response they get would be ‘Forget it buddy, piss off’. It is very rare that someone is genuine but occasionally it really pays off. That’s what happened with the Italian journalists recovered in 2005. They had a walk-in by a guy who said he had information. The Americans initially said, ‘Bugger off, mate, you’re taking the piss.’ This bloke came back shortly after and offered information regarding some Europeans. He was interviewed and the captives turned out to be Italians.
Our teams rehearsed nearly every day in building clearances, insertion and extraction and shooting just in case we got confirmation of the whereabouts of Douglas Wood and we’d able to react accordingly. There was a lot of information coming forward but nothing of substance. We were working on the basis that if we were 80 per cent confident in its provenance we’d act on it, whereas the Americans were working on a much lower level of proof. In fact, they would respond on very small amounts of information, which is probably not a bad idea when a hostage is in great danger, but they did end up hitting a lot of dry holes. They would hit target after target and gain very little. It did put their guys at risk but at least they could then take that information out of the equation. They were as keen as mustard to help us out.
To secure our 80 per cent confirmation with some of the sources coming forward we would buy them a camera and tell them to go away to get a snapshot of Douglas Wood. These are guys living on the edge, so you have to expect some pretty weird results. There was one guy, an absolute nut case, who had heard that the Americans were looking for an Australian so he made himself known. He was given money to buy a camera and take a picture of Douglas Wood. He took the money but bought a phone–not a phone with a camera, just a phone.
The Delta guys were not happy. These fellas are firm but fair, and said to him, ‘Do that again and you’ll end up in prison!’ He was given more money–this time to buy a camera, and was told, ‘Get a photo of Douglas Wood, and tell us where he is.’
So he went away and bought a camera, but then came back and asked for more money. He was now pushing his luck. ‘Go and get some proof of identity,’ he was ordered. He returned with some bogus information about some Turkish hostages in the same place who were being anally raped.
‘Go and get the address.’
‘Back soon.’
You’ve got to admire the Americans’ patience. I don’t know where he went but when he came back he displayed a photo he’d taken: ‘This is your guys,’ he said. It showed a TV screen of some male porn, but you could see the outside of a TV set on the edges of the photo!
The Americans said, ‘Thanks very much, mate. You’re going straight to prison.’ It turned out this guy’s family had been killed during a significant battle and he was after a bit of payback. They figured he was setting us up to assault a compound or a house which may have been wired full of explosives, and on detonation would collapse the house on the team.
Our Australian intelligence guys in Baghdad worked hard to get information also. It was the first overseas recovery job the Australians were involved in, so the agencies really wanted to do a top job. They were really working hard to get some good intelligence as to where Mr Wood was. They got close–they worked on an informer who said he wasn’t too far away, which was actually the case, but we just couldn’t pinpoint the right spot. The Americans also had intelligence that he was in the general area but they couldn’t discover the exact building either.
However, just as some really good information came forward a combined American–Iraqi operation swept through an area and found him. We were happy for Douglas Wood but disappointed we were not able to help with the recovery.
It was a big anticlimax for all involved, because everyone on the project had worked hard. We were trained to do the job and we’d have done it well given the chance. We did a little bit of security for Douglas Wood at the hospital and the other team did security for him when he was transferred to Dubai, but that was it. Game over.
Before leaving we conducted a security survey on the Australian Embassy in Baghdad and put together a contingency plan if unwanted guests were to break through the physical security.
We wrapped up the survey in about five days and left shortly afterwards. Debriefing was important on our return. Everything you do first up always provides lessons. This operation was entirely new to all Australian Government agencies and we figured there was probably a good chance that we would change the way we went about it next time. Maybe the government saw it as a bit of a tester, as they too were probably concerned about how it was all going to run. Douglas Wood himself was a bit of a rarity in that he had an American wife and was living in the US, and his captors saw him as a source of income, not a political statement.
We returned to Australia in July and resumed our normal training pattern for about three months. At the time some of the squadrons were well under their nominal strength. So it really came as no surprise when word passed around in October that reinforcements were needed for 2 Squadron in Afghanistan. I was on the east coast on a special recovery operations (SRO) exercise when the OC called in six of us and told us we’d been chosen. ‘Any dramas with that?’ he asked.
‘Nope, no dramas.’
‘Okay, you’re leaving tonight. Pack your bags; don’t say anything to the other blokes. You have to go to Randwick barracks where they’re conducting pre-deployment lectures.’
We sat in these ridiculous lectures for three days before we rebelled. The lectures aimed at the wider army and were totally irrelevant to what we do. They might have helped people in an admin role who didn’t train for conflict, but not frontline soldiers. Towards the end of day three there was a lesson on Afghan culture, and were amazed that a Sydney taxi driver was brought in to talk to us. I thought that was quite a
ppropriate for Sydney, but not ideal considering the circumstances.
However, the guy who was running the pre-deployment package was really good. When we told him we’d had enough he said, ‘No worries, you’ve done enough for me to sign you off anyway.’
Back at Campbell Barracks we did some more build-up training before departure. There was probably half the patrol who hadn’t worked with each other before. So we developed some patrol integrity and worked up some drills to get accustomed to each other’s idiosyncrasies. This would also be beneficial when working in the dark–you could identify someone by the way they moved or conducted their drills. Of course, we knew when we got there we’d all get farmed out to different patrols but it’s good to work closely with as many members of the regiment as possible. You never know when you’ll be thrown together on an operation, and knowing each other’s strengths and weaknesses can mean life or death.
We took the same chartered plane that had flown us to the Middle East earlier that year. And from Kuwait we travelled to Qatar where there was quite a large contingent of admin staff and RAAF personnel. This was the base for the C130s in the Gulf. They were attached to a huge American camp big enough to support several messes. We weren’t there long before a C130 flew us directly to Tarin Kowt, Oruzgan, Afghanistan. It was like walking into a reunion as we were led around our compound and shown the accommodation. We were briefed by the troop sergeant, PG, who reckoned it was going to be on between us and the Taliban up north. Our first patrol was to take us through the area where 2 Squadron had previously been viciously contacted by the enemy in the Khod valley. So with that in the back of our minds we spent as much time as possible on the range.
Three days later we were heading out.
I was in RH’s patrol; a bunch of magic blokes. Four were straight off the reinforcement cycle that had been sent to 2 Squadron and immediately overseas. But they were good soldiers. One was an ex-clearance diver and the other three had infantry backgrounds.
Once we left the gates we headed north to a place called Saraw. I rode on the back of the LRPV as an extra shooter as we drove through villages every 10 to 15 kilometres apart. At the side of the road I saw an old T55 Russian tank half buried on a river’s edge, a reminder of the history of Afghanistan, which has been at some kind of war for longer than we’ve been writing history books.
The countryside was a mix of stark, bare, rocky mountains and valleys–‘the green’–is the lush vegetation either side of a large river usually stretching out to 1–2 kilometres at right angles to the river. The wind rose and fell unpredictably and changed direction as it whipped around the mountain passes. There were no trees on the hillsides to act as indicators of wind strength or direction, so when calculating adjustments for your scope a sniper had to rely on small puffs of the fine dust from the shoes of moving targets or from the tyres of vehicles. You could also get an idea of the wind strength as the target’s clothes flapped in the gusts. Sometimes if you were lucky you could get an indication from a small flag or piece of cloth that was hanging from a compound wall.
Generally the women stayed inside the compounds, but we would often have kids staring at us as we passed. The men–bearded and surly–would be in the fields with their crops or gathered in small groups lazily seeing the day out. You’d never get a friendly grin out of any of them. If you wanted information, you paid, and you could never be sure if they were telling you the truth. At best, only 25 per cent of the population seemed to be on side with us. Many of them said they hated the Taliban and they probably did, but at least they provided some kind of law and order. Some spoke very broken English, so we would communicate through an interpreter hired from an American company. They treated the government in Kabul with the contempt it probably deserved. And there was never a minute outside your own base when you could relax.
It took two days to get to Saraw in the blazing sun and dust because the patrolling program was quite slow and focused in the surrounding area. To get into the valley where Saraw is located you first have to move through a mountain pass we called IED Alley. It is quite steep and very narrow towards the top. All the way up the pass there are burnt-out shipping containers and truck bodies.
This was very nerve-racking and everyone anticipated an ambush as it was a perfect area for it, so we cleared it by foot. This took a long time and NC, the troop boss, decided that we would harbour up for the night at the top of the pass. He also wanted an OP on the high ground to act as overwatch using the TI. I was part of this patrol and streamlined my pack by just taking my sleeping bag, warm kit and a thermos of coffee. I also carried my SR25. The going was steep and treacherous underfoot due to the loose rocks. The ridgeline at the top was narrow and comfortable sleeping spots were nowhere to be found. The wind was also bitterly cold. No-one got much sleep that night.
On return to the troop harbour position we had a quick feed and a brew then continued on task.
We had ‘eyes on’ Saraw for a few days and were now awaiting the arrival of the Afghan National Army (ANA) for the second phase of the operation. The night they came we could see their headlights as they were driving down the mountain passes, ‘Oh shit, here we go,’ we thought. The lights were a clear indication to the Taliban that someone was coming; the locals rarely travel at night or in convoy. So we had to race out and get them to turn them off. We taped their headlights and all the other lights on the outside of their cars with black masking tape. But since they couldn’t see where they were going, we drove their cars for them wearing our night vision goggles. They loved it. They thought it was magic.
They were a pretty ragtag bunch. Their vehicles were bursting at the seams with all the guys inside; their utes on average had eight blokes on lookout duty with RPGs, and there was an AK47 protruding from every window.
That morning the 4RAR guys were dropped off by Chinook, and a Canadian Special Forces (CANSOF) unit also joined the convoy. When the combined units started to conduct their sweep, we went through Saraw and moved north up the valley. We could hear a bit of small arms fire but figured that it was the ANA shooting at shadows. Pretty soon we had the area consolidated and waited on the ANA to interview the locals and detain suspected Taliban.
We all ended up spending the night to the north of the village and just before it got dark we saw a Taliban ‘retrans’ (remote signals) location on the top of a very high ridgeline to the east, and called in a Spectre gunship to destroy it. The following morning we departed that location leaving the attachments behind and driving through some very dodgy areas where everyone was on edge. We could see the enemy’s spotter network operating on the high ground. They had their radio systems going and we knew we were being watched. We were tuned into a captured enemy radio and could hear their chatter. The spotter network would hide themselves on a high feature that provided great fields of view and could see up to 20 kilometres with the aid of binoculars. They might not be able to see anything in great detail, but would easily spot the huge clouds of dust our vehicle would create, allowing the Taliban plenty of warning of our arrival.
As we came into the Khod Valley it was late in the afternoon and we were entering the area where 2 Squadron had been involved in quite a big contact. There was a lot of intelligence coming in. Our Afghan interpreter was updating us via a captured radio, saying, ‘Right, they’re forming up, they’re going to attack.’ There was clearly a certain Taliban leader trying to organise his fighters, but the chatter was all over the place; they couldn’t seem to get themselves together properly and we actually drove through their proposed ambush site before they could form up.
It wasn’t until a few days later that we actually had rockets fired at us. We had gone north to what we thought was a secure area. One of our tasks was to suss out the allegiance of certain villages in that location. In one village we had extremely good OBs, and after checking it out thoroughly we drove in and spoke with their leaders. When we got there we could see a big Dushka–a 14.7 mm heavy machine gun–lightly concealed
and pointing towards the troop harbour. That would have caused us an absolute headache if it had opened up. We got talking to them and they seemed to be on side. Apparently the reason why most men were armed was because of tribal tensions–and not our presence in the area.
There were four villages in the immediate vicinity, anywhere from 2.5 to 10 kilometres apart, and we visited each one. Each had a different feel about it, some more unsettling than others. When speaking to the locals the standard response was ‘Taliban, there hasn’t been Taliban here for 12 months.’ And the other was ‘Yes, that village down the road is full of Taliban.’ So we treated every village with care.
Mid-afternoon we positioned ourselves about 4 kilometres way from the second village we looked at. The area between was quite open so that if they wanted to take us on by foot we’d have prior warning and see villagers coming. At this stage we were about 8 kilometres away from Khod in a very large and open area we called the oyster shell because of its shape on the map.
We were back far enough to be out of the way of small arms fire and maybe even heavy machine-gun fire. But we were wary of Taliban 107 mm rockets that have a range of about 7.5 kilometres. We hadn’t seen any in the villages but they are easily hidden and when they want to fire them they throw together a wooden firing platform in the shape of a V. They have a very crude aiming device–they get down behind it, add or remove rocks for elevation and aim it in your direction.
They have explosive charges or detonating cord that runs from the base of each 107 mm rocket that will set the charge off to fire it. A timer initiates an electrical charge that sets off the detonating cord. They can set it up so that each individual rocket is on a different timer. Half the time these rockets are okay for line on target, which means it will land in a straight line anywhere between them and the target. But range is generally off. It’s rough and ready but they pack a hell of a punch.